As Christians, one of our primary tasks is to share the good news with those who desperately need it, and who needs it more than those who are lost. In order to do this our attitudes need to be completely re-shaped and conformed to Christ.

You wake up in the morning, scratch your back and stretch. You grab some coffee and then sit down to read the news. The first story that catches your eye includes a photograph of people doing something that makes your blood boil. You grit your teeth and mutter something under your breath and then share the link with your friends on your favorite social media site with some choice comments.
You decide to go shopping. While walking through the local store, you see a group of teenagers. They are brash, loud, and obnoxious. Several of them have multiple tattoos and piercings. The band logos and art on their clothing are offensive to you. They cast a sneering glance at you as you walk by. You can feel your blood pressure rising. You pull out your phone and write a quick tweet about how much you dislike the younger generation.
I was one of the lost people we see every day.
I could go on, but the point I want to make concerns our attitude as Christians towards the lost people we see every day. This is important to me because I was one of those lost people, and not once did any Christian even attempt to talk with me about the Gospel of Christ. I’ve often wondered why.
I grew up near Houston, Texas, deep in the southern part of the United States. It’s often called “the Bible Belt” because there are so many churches and so many Christians. Presumably, I ran across some of them during those years. If so, not one of them spoke a word to me about Jesus. (While in high school, I did encounter an elderly gentleman handing out Gideon’s pocket New Testaments to students. He gave me one but didn’t speak. I’m thankful that he showed at least that much care because several years later, God used that New Testament to draw me to Christ).
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Paul came proclaiming “the testimony of God.” He did not come preaching personal preferences, pop culture, political ideology, scientific theories, or sociological studies. He did not come proclaiming the testimony of man but the testimony of God. I love how Paul refers to the Word of God, that is the 66 books of the Old and New Testaments, as God’s “testimony.”

And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God (1 Corinthians 2:1-5).
In his book, The Soul Winner, Charles Spurgeon tells the story of a young pastor who, after preaching one Sunday, asked an older minster in his congregation for some feedback. The old minister was hesitant at first, but the young pastor pressed him until he said, “If I must tell you, I did not like it at all; there was no Christ in your sermon.” “No,” replied the young man, “because I did not see that Christ was in the text.” “But do you not know,” asked the old preacher, “that from every little town and village and tiny hamlet in England there is a road leading to London? Whenever I get hold of a text, I say to myself, ‘There is a road from here to Jesus Christ, and I mean to keep on His track till I get to Him.’” To which the young man said, “but suppose you are preaching from a text that says nothing about Christ?” The old man said, “Then I will go over hedge and ditch [to] get at Him.”
The Apostle Paul held and was held by the same Christ-exalting conviction. When summarizing his 18-month ministry to the Corinthians he said simply, “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2). It was a reminder the Corinthians desperately needed because after Paul left them, they forgot the gospel and fell into gross sins and divisions. So, Paul wrote this letter hoping to reignite their affections for Christ and reinforce their confidence in simple gospel preaching as the primary means by which God saves and sanctifies sinners.
What is good preaching? What is a faithful ministry? Upon what and upon whom must we build our faith? We can find answers to these questions and more in the opening lines of 1 Corinthians 2 and we see that a faithful minister must preach Christ crucified in reliance upon the Holy Spirit.
I have dedicated an entire shelf of my library to books on homiletics, the art of preaching. But none of those books, nor all of them combined, can rival the simplicity and glory of Paul’s compact, how-to preaching manual before us, the first chapter of which could be entitled, What to Preach? Paul writes, “And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom” (1 Corinthians 2:1).
Paul came proclaiming “the testimony of God.” He did not come preaching personal preferences, pop culture, political ideology, scientific theories, or sociological studies. He did not come proclaiming the testimony of man but the testimony of God. I love how Paul refers to the Word of God, that is the 66 books of the Old and New Testaments, as God’s “testimony.” This is the only time he employs this phrase.
In a courtroom, witnesses sit on the stand and give their testimony. They answer questions and tell of what they’ve seen and what they know as the jury searches for truth. How infinitely valuable then, is the book in which is written the testimony of him who knows and sees all? How trustworthy is the account of him who is not like a man that he should lie or the son of man that he should change his mind? How timeless is the word of him who dwells outside of time in eternity, without beginning or end? So, like Paul faithful preachers must proclaim the testimony of God gripped by a holy fear of straying from its ancient paths. Our sermons must be riveted to the Bible and uncompromisingly exegetical.
When we used microscopes in high school biology we were told to start on the lowest magnification and then click over to higher magnifications to zoom in on the plant cells or fish scales we were examining. Paul does the same thing here. Having identified “the testimony of God” as the body of truth he preached, he zooms in on the very heart of the Scriptures, who is the Lord Jesus Christ: “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2).
Paul’s saying that to properly proclaim the testimony of God is to know “nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified.” Why? Because the testimony of God swirls like a heavenly hurricane around Jesus. That’s why Phillip told Nathaniel, “We have found him of whom Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph” (John 1:45). That’s why on the Mt. of Transfiguration the disciples saw Jesus standing with Moses and Elijah, the representatives of the law and the prophets. That’s why as the resurrected Christ walked along the road to Emmaus with his disciples, Luke writes, “beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself” (Luke 24:27). That’s why Paul said all of the promises of God find their “yes” and “amen” in Christ (2 Corinthians 1:20).
But what, precisely about Jesus did Paul preach? Not just Jesus the divine teacher, or Jesus the wonder worker, or Jesus the moral example but, Jesus “Christ.” That is, Jesus the anointed one, long awaited Messiah, the Prophet like Moses whom God would raise up from among his brothers and who would speak the very words of God, the Priest after the order of Melchizedek that would intercede on behalf of his people and atone for their sins, and the King, great David’s greater Son, who would rule and defend his blood-bought people and whose kingdom would be everlasting, universal, and indomitable.
But there’s something more. Paul decided to know nothing but “Jesus Christ and him crucified.” Paul preached every sermon in the shadow of the empty cross. Why? Because it was on the cross that Jesus, the Seed of the Woman, the virgin born Son of God and Son of Man, the Offspring of Abraham, the Lion of Judah, Son of David, the Holy one of Israel, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, the Prince of Peace, became the Lamb of God who bore the sins of his people. And on that Friday long ago, atop a hill called Golgotha, which means the skull, suspended between a cruel mob and blackened sun, Jesus hung naked and nailed to a tree where he endured in his body and soul the of God’s burning hatred for the sins of his people until the magazines of Heaven’s holy wrath were empty and the fires of hell which burned for his people, were extinguished in his blood.
Paul decided to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified because that gospel of canceled sin by a loving God is the greatest news and only hope this world has ever heard; because while the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing it is the power of God to those who are being saved (1 Corinthians 1:18); because Jesus Christ is all together lovely, the fairest of ten thousand, the bright and morning star, the lily of the valley, the rose of Sharon, the balm of Gilead, the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, in whom the fullness of deity was pleased to dwell, bread of life, light of the world, the only door to God, the Good Shepherd, the resurrections and the life, the way, the truth and the life; because Paul’s highest hope and most ardent prayer was for his people to kiss the Son in love and embrace him in faith.
Well, if the first chapter of Paul’s preaching manual could be entitled, “What to Preach”, the second and final chapter could be called, “How to Preach.”  When I served as a youth ministry intern at another PCA church, we took an annual mission trip to Mexico. And we gave our students a detailed packing list that included sunscreen, bug spray, bottled water, Bible, double the pairs of underwear you think you’ll need. But if I remember correctly, the first item on the list was not something to bring, but something to leave behind. “Don’t pack your negative attitude.” Paul begins the same way; listing what he did not bring with him to Corinth: “And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom” (1 Corinthians 2:1).
Paul left his lofty speech and wisdom at home. He didn’t preach to impress. His style and his content were clear and plain that all might understand and believe the gospel he preached. He didn’t tickle the ears of his hearers with polished eloquence and Shakespearean sermons. There was a decided austerity to his style. He wrapped his sermons in sackcloth. He wanted his people to see Christ in his preaching so he refused to blind them by the glare of lacquered words. The old Puritan, Matthew Henry, said, Paul “preached the truths of Christ in their native dress, with plainness of speech.” Nor did he vaunt his learning to blow his hearers away. He didn’t come to make fans of Paul but disciples of Jesus Christ.
We who preach must decide the same. The temptation to make a name for ourselves is great. Sermon Audio download reports, book publishing, conference circuits, growing church attendance and budgets, even the well-intentioned praises of parishioners can become trip wires in which a proud man may become ensnared. So, we preachers must not overestimate our own sanctification and underestimate the power of indwelling pride. The 19th century Scottish theologian, James Denney, once said, “You cannot at the same time give the impression that you are a great preacher and that Jesus Christ is a great Savior.”
So, if Paul didn’t come with lofty speech or wisdom, what did he bring? Paul explained, “And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling…” (1 Corinthians 2:3). These three things are connected. One flows into the other like pools of cascading water. Paul came in spiritual weakness in humble recognition that the task to which he’d been called was bigger than him. Paul must have felt like Ezekiel looking out over that valley carpeted with dry bones, of which the Lord asked, “Son of man can these bones live?” Paul knew that no matter how well he preached to the Corinthians, no matter how robust his reasoning, no matter how sacrificially he served them or how genuinely he loved them he could not change a single person. He knew that only the Spirit of God, who is the Lord and Giver of life, can open eyes blinded by sin. Only the Spirit can enlighten minds darkened by depravity. Only the Spirit can thaw hearts frozen in hate for God and fill them with love for Christ. Only the Spirit can burst the bonds of Satan and liberate captive wills to choose Jesus. Only the Spirit can fill the craters of doubt and unbelief with saving faith by which we receive and rest in Christ alone for our salvation.
Some people fear snakes, or spiders, or darkness. In view of his own weakness, Paul was afraid of something too: not creepy crawlies or cruel people or even death itself; Paul was filled with a holy fear and zealous longing for the souls of his people. Paul knew that the wages of sin is death in hell forever and man’s only hope was to trust the Christ of whom Paul preached. But Paul knew that the forces of darkness committed to keeping the Corinthians from coming to Christ even if it meant convincing them to hang their faith on Paul instead of the power of the Holy Spirit. In fact, Paul’s decision to preach unadorned sermons was born of his awareness of his own weaknesses and the inability of eloquence and human sophistication to save a soul. So, he said in 1 Corinthians 2:4-6: “and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.”
The preacher who believes that he is truly powerless and that the greatest sermon he could ever preach is insufficient to move the needle of one heart one degree towards God unless the Holy Spirit owns it will be a praying preacher. The church that yearns for the kind of preaching that saves sinners, the kind of preaching that transforms society, the kind of preaching that sparks revival in our land and rattle the gates of hell, will beg God for it in prayer.
Many years ago, I visited the historic Independent Presbyterian Church in downtown Savannah. I was blown away by the beauty of the architecture: the copper crowned steeple, Savannah shutters, hardwood box pews, vaulted ceiling, marble baptismal font, and especially the massive pulpit. As I gazed up at the pulpit, my friend who was also an intern at the church at that time, turned to me and asked, “Do you want to get in it?” “Do I!” I replied. So, he opened a secret door at the base of the pulpit which led to a secret staircase. And as I ascended those stairs something caught my eye at the top: a small brass plaque. I noticed that the finish of the wood surrounding the plaque had been rubbed away by the ministers who would touch the plaque as they went to preach each Lords Day. And as I got closer I was able to read the plaque. It said, “Sir, we would see Jesus.”
May we privileged preachers decide with Paul to live and preach with our hands on that plaque. May every sermon, every text, every Sunday beam with Christ and him crucified, Christ and him buried, Christ and him resurrected, Christ and his ascended, Christ and him seated ruling and reigning, and Christ returning in glory to judge the living and the dead. And may the church demand it of us, like those unnamed Greeks who said to Phillip long ago, “Sir, we would see Jesus” (John 12:21). And in seeing him, may we be made more like him and bear much fruit to the glory of God.
Jim McCarthy is a Minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and is Pastor of Trinity PCA in Statesboro, Ga.
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If anyone had good reason to shuffle past the children — “Sorry, kids, not now” — it was Jesus. No one had higher priorities or a loftier mission. No one’s time was more valuable. Yet no one gave his priorities or his time so patiently to those we might see as distractions. On his way to save the world, our Lord paused and “took [the children] in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them” (Mark 10:16). His life and ministry were full, but not too full for children.

Ever since Eden, God has given children a crucial role in the coming of his kingdom. “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring,” God told the serpent (Genesis 3:15). And so, ever since Eden, there has also been a long and desperate war on children.
The biblical story shows us just how ruthless this world’s anti-child forces can become: Pharaoh casting Israel’s sons in the Nile (Exodus 1:22). Demonic “gods” bidding parents to pass their children through fire (Jeremiah 19:4–5). Herod slaughtering Bethlehem’s boys (Matthew 2:16).
Our own society is not above such bloodshed: more than sixty million invisible headstones (from the last fifty years, and still counting) fill America’s fields. Much of the modern West’s aversion to children appears, however, in subtler forms. Today, we are having fewer children than ever, later than ever. We diminish, and sometimes outright despise, stay-at-home motherhood. And too often, we treat children as mere accessories to our individualism: valuable insofar as they buttress our personal identity and further our personal goals — otherwise, inconvenient.
As Christians, we may be tempted to assume that this war on children exists only out there. But even when we turn from the world of secular individualism and carefully consider ourselves — our hearts, our homes, our churches — we may find strange inclinations against children. We may discover that anti-child forces can hide in the most seemingly pro-child places. And we may realize, as Jesus’s disciples once did, that children need a larger place in our lives.
Pro-Child on Paper
As with most Christians today, the disciples of Jesus grew up in a largely pro-child culture. Their views of children may not have been as sentimental as ours sometimes are, but they knew kids played a key role in God’s purposes. They remembered God’s promise to send a serpent-crushing son (Genesis 3:15). They regularly recited the command to teach God’s word “diligently to your children” (Deuteronomy 6:4–9). They cherished God’s faithfulness to a thousand generations (Exodus 34:7).
But then, one day, some actual children approach the disciples. And as Jesus watches how his men respond, he feels an emotion nowhere else attributed to him in the Gospels: indignation.
They were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant. (Mark 10:13–14)
The disciples likely had the best of intentions. To them, these children (or their parents) were acting inappropriately; they were coming at the wrong time or in the wrong way. Not now, children — the Master has business to attend to. They were about to discover, however, that far from distracting the Master from his business, children lay near the heart of the Master’s business.
In the process, they also warn us that claiming a pro-child position does not mean living a pro-child life. You can theoretically value children and practically neglect them. You can say on paper, “Let the children come,” while saying with your posture, “Let the children keep their distance.” You can look with disdain on the anti-child forces in the world and, meanwhile, overlook the precious children in your midst.
We, like the disciples, may hold pro-child positions. Our churches may have pro-child programs. But actually being pro-child requires far more than a position or a program: it requires the very heart and posture of Christ.
Heart of Christ for Children
“Jesus loved children with a grand and profound love,” Herman Bavinck writes (The Christian Family, 43). And do we? Answering that question may require a closer look at our Lord’s response when the little children came to him.
How might we become more like this Man who made his home among the children, this almighty Lord of the little ones? Among the various pro-child postures we see in Mark 10:13–16, consider three.
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